8. Dennis #2
Escalus grunted. “Send him to me when you’re done with him. We have some things to talk about as well.”
Dennis felt his eyebrows go up. Did that sound ominous, or was it just him?
Beside him, Bjorn stiffened but said nothing.
He just stood there for a moment, and then walked into the house through the newly-cleared doorway.
He looked like he was preparing for battle, and as he followed him, Dennis wondered just how bad this was going to be.
Bjorn’s parents led them to a very formal-looking living room - parlor?
Sitting room? - with an ornate couch and loveseat set covered with embroidered flowers.
They looked distinctly uncomfortable to sit on, but sit on them people did, Bjorn on the couch and the parents on the loveseat.
Dennis dithered for a few seconds, considering whether he should withdraw for what was likely to be a personal conversation, but Bjorn tugged him down beside him.
And yep, the couch was uncomfortable. Was that a spring poking him in the ass?
“Bjorn," his father began, then paused and looked at where Dennis had just crossed his legs. "Why is your friend here? This is family – den – business."
Bjorn scowled. "I won't keep secrets from Dennis, so there's no reason for him to not be here. Take it or leave it."
Both parents studied Bjorn critically, eyebrows down and lips pursed. “When will your belongings be arriving?” Rowena asked after a moment.
Dennis and Bjorn exchanged a confused look at the non sequitur. “I just have my suitcase,” Bjorn said slowly. “I was on vacation when I got the call about Gran.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “So you will have the rest shipped, then.”
Bjorn blinked. “Shipped where?”
“Here, of course,” his father cut in blandly, waving a hand to encompass the house. “Though I suppose Alpha would allow you to have your own little cabin if you feel strongly about it. Pointless, though. We’ll need to focus on your training.”
Training? What the fuck? Dennis opened his mouth to ask, then closed it. These weren’t his parents and this wasn’t his community. Maybe he was missing something?
Apparently, though, if he was missing something, Bjorn was as well, because his eyebrows went up and he said, “What?”
His mother clasped her hands primly in her lap. “Well, you’re certainly not prepared yet to take your new role, so we’ll need to train you. I think we can get it done in about six weeks, well before the solstice gathering.”
“Mom…” Bjorn said cautiously, “what role are you talking about?” He sounded like he had a pretty good idea but was hoping he was wrong, and Dennis got a sinking feeling.
Rowena turned on her husband, hissing, “Didn't you tell him the plan?" Her husband blanched and shook his head slightly. "I told you to -” she began.
“What plan?” Bjorn interrupted, his patience obviously fraying.
She blinked at him. “For you to take your new position in the den, Bjorn,” she said as if her son was a bit slow on the uptake. “Your papa will handle most of your training, as it should be, but I think I should handle your social skills.”
Bjorn’s jaw tightened. “My social skills are just fine. And I’m not taking a position in the den. I’m here to see Gran, and then I’m going home.”
“That’s absurd,” said Rowena. “Your home is here and always has been. A role as an enforcer or beta is your birthright. Besides, with your grandmother so ill, you won’t leave, and we all know it.”
Bjorn paled slightly. “Just how sick is she?” he asked in a weaker voice.
Rowena waved a hand. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll pull through, but she’ll need nursing. Perhaps your…friend.” She shot a doubtful glance at Dennis, who most definitely did not look like a nurse. “Can attend to her while you brush up on den protocols.”
Bjorn glanced at Dennis, who could only widen his eyes in a silent What the fuck, then looked back at his mother. “We’re not staying,” he said again, more firmly. “We’re going to stay as long as it takes Gran to stabilize, but then we both have lives and jobs to get home to.”
His father made a derisive noise. “Your little coloring hobby? You know that won’t be a reliable living, not like working for the den will be.”
“Papa.” Bjorn ground his teeth visibly. “I make a solid living as an illustrator. It’s not like I’m scribbling with crayons. And Dennis owns his own business and needs to get back to it.”
“Oh?” His mother suddenly looked interested. “What sort of business? Perhaps you can help us instruct Bjorn.”
Dennis wanted to do exactly nothing that would please this woman. “Oh, it’s a dive bar,” he said with false cheer, deliberately making his pub sound tackier than it was. “We get a lot of bikers and pool sharks. Fights sometimes. You know how it is.”
Rowena's nose went into the air. “Ah. So you will not be useful, then.”
Shots fired. Luckily, Dennis was largely immune to that sort of talking-down, mostly because he rarely gave a shit what others thought.
And a little because these people were obviously idiots to begin with, so their opinions especially didn’t matter to him.
He just offered Bjorn's parents a cold smile. “Bjorn can ‘color’ at my bar.”
Bjorn shot him a warm look, silently thanking him for the support, Dennis thought. “What kind of living I make is irrelevant, anyway,” Bjorn said, turning back to his parents, “because it’s not feeding into the den accounts except for my tithe, and I’m not moving back to the den.”
His mother's left eyebrow went up haughtily. “You will do as you are told, my boy.”
Dennis snorted. As if that was going to work. He’d already learned that Bjorn could be as stubborn as Dennis could; Bjorn just somehow did it with a smile on his face. Both Bjorn and his father reacted to the noise by turning to look at him. “Something to say?” sneered the father.
Before Dennis could snark back, Bjorn broke in, his voice low and dangerous all of a sudden. “You haven’t had control of me and my life since I was a teenager, Mom. What makes you think I will bow down now?”
“Well, we need -” began his father, but his wife cut him off with a slash of her hand in the air.
“You have a duty to your parents,” she insisted, “and to your den.”
“Mom, I’m barely a member of the den anymore. I moved away ten years ago. I pay my tithe, but that’s it. And I’ll remind you, again, that I’m only here today to see Gran. Now, if you have nothing else of interest to talk about, I would very much like to see her.”
His mother's lips tightened disapprovingly, but she apparently decided she wasn’t going to get any further with the current strategy.
She nodded slightly. “Very well. You may go to her, but remember that the alpha wants to speak with you afterward. Do not,” she added threateningly, “ignore that summons.”
Without dignifying that order with an answer, Bjorn pushed to his feet. “C’mon, Dennis.”
Dennis was only too happy to get out of this stifling room and away from Bjorn’s overbearing parents.
“But don't forget our plans!” Rowena added, throwing out a hand as if to stop them. “We need to arrange -!”
Bjorn just shook his head. “Arrange your own life, not mine.” He looked at Dennis. “Let’s go. We can walk to Gran’s from here.”
Silently, Dennis allowed himself to be led out of the house and back into the main clearing.
As soon as they entered the space and found it empty except for the parked cars, with no spectators, Bjorn seemed to deflate, letting out a huge breath and leaning against the side of Dennis’s truck. “Fuck,” he breathed.
Dennis patted his shoulder awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to reassure this man without erring too far on either the side of too brusque or too familiar. “You ok?”
Bjorn just shook his head. “They’re…it is what it is, I guess.
Let’s go see Gran.” He took one more deep breath, let it out, and then straightened up.
“She’s this way,” he said, gesturing with a jerk of his head to a path that led to the left.
“I’m glad I still have my key, so she doesn’t have to get out of bed to let us in. ”
Dennis hummed his understanding and followed Bjorn into the trees yet again. They walked for perhaps five minutes before coming upon another small cottage, this one painted a bright purple with a red door.